


Nice Hair

by realFactsNLogic (genericmainaccount)



Category: Election Year Knockout
Genre: Canada, Canada Day, Canadian stereotypes, Crushes, F/M, Het, Heterosexual Romance, Humour, Inner Dialogue, Interviews, Justin Trudeau - Freeform, Newscasters, Paraphrased Dialogue, Parody, Political Satire, Politics, Rejection, Stream of Consciousness, TV News, Tags: Boxing, Unrequited Crush, otp prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genericmainaccount/pseuds/realFactsNLogic
Summary: A female newscaster is to interview a parody of the Right and Honourable Justin Turbeau. She adores his hair. Will he be theMisterRight and Honourable for her? Read to find out!In honour of Canada Day and to go with the Steam release of Election Year Knockout coming the day after, I present to you: a fanfiction I have written for this game.
Relationships: Female Newscaster/Justin Turbeau
Kudos: 2





	Nice Hair

**Author's Note:**

> The plot is based on Perchance.Org’s OTP Prompt Generator: “Person A loving when Person B strokes their hair. Literally loving it. Person A could be having a conversation and stop talking just to grin because Person B touched their hair.” A is Jill, B is Turbeau. I peppered some headcanons here and there. Try and find them! I would also like to thank someone on Discord for giving me this idea. 
> 
> Characters and their source material belong to the people at ExceptionNULL games. Please check them out, they’re awesome!

_This was supposed to be an interview_.

Jill knew she must be as professional as she can be. Thanks to her big mouth, the entire news headquarters knew. They have all heard her major crush on this man. She probably did not care. As long as she was able to keep her job, it would be fine.

Jill wasn’t sure of how to feel about this task, other than excited. They assigned her to interview the one and only Justin Turbeau, the prime minister of Canada. He seemed so Right and Honourable, down to the capital letter. Although, would he be _Mister_ Right and Honourable? She has been chasing boys since she was a first-grader. (Or as they say it in Canada, a Grade-Oner.) None of the boys would kiss her back. Not even during high school, or college. She did not even have a date to homecoming, or prom. She wasn’t upset, though. Either the boys feared scandal, or they feared her. Did this mean that was she assertive for her gender? Still, it made her a little bit lonely.

Jill would do anything to get her Canadian citizenship. She wanted another way in, without having to fight against bureaucracy—literally. This new law was a little stupid, but she didn’t mind it. Just as long as she didn’t have to get those gloves out. It’s been a while since that new orientation. Every newscaster had to take it. Every job was risky now. It wasn’t even safe to be working as a cashier. 

She read the reports. She felt a little bad for those kids. They were so young. Just as young as she wished to be again. Thank goodness she was only tasked to report on casual, happier things. Mundane, yes, but she couldn’t handle all that boxing stuff unless it had anything to do with some guys she liked. Of course, one of them was Justin Turbeau. Recently he claimed he would annex America. All in the name of its northern neighbour. 

In the next fifteen minutes, Justin Turbeau would be meeting with her. She hoped her hair looked good for the cameras. While this wasn’t a date, it sure felt like one to Jill. She couldn’t help but feel like a nervous child being interviewed. 

One time, they had to interview a 6-year-old girl. She broke the nose of a fifth-grader. Even _children_ are boxing. Like all other forms of discrimination, schoolyard bullying would exist as long as the world does. That interview with the little girl blew her mind. And it was all over hair!

Speaking of hair, braids were cute. Why didn’t she fix her own into one? These classic blonde puffs would work, though. Jill remembered her fellow anchorman telling her that it suited her, as it reminded him of a cloud. And that her head was always in the clouds. There’s nothing wrong with that, but from the look on his face, maybe there was. He just wouldn’t say it to her face. Oh well.

It’s fine if her hair looked a little messy, though. It’s still a part of her look. Meanwhile, with Turbeau, _his_ hair was _divine_. She could already see him standing there across the room. He was pouring himself a coffee in the corner, surrounded by some of the news crew. It would only be _five_ minutes before he’s up there with her. 

Thank goodness she’s not with her anchorman for this segment. He would always be so serious. Why couldn’t the news be fun, for once? Boxing replaced heated debates. Boxing is fun, thus why is it still a touchy subject? The person who suggested it was only joking. What does this say about society now? Speeches were still allowed, of course. After the law had passed, politicians could legally, physically destroy each other.

Jill overheard Turbeau complain a little. Well, not necessarily. He only remarked to himself, out loud, about how the coffee here didn’t taste that great. Guess he and the fellow anchorman had something in common. What has his name anyway? She kept forgetting. Sometimes the coffee was _so_ bad, it made her coworker want to set the building on fire. Why didn’t he do so yet? The country had been in chaos before _and_ after the new law. The only thing that changed was the _way_ the issues were dealt with. Unlike him, though, Justin Turbeau was chill about it. He always had that look on his friendly face. Especially with his eyebrows. It welcomed and invited anyone to keep staring. Hold on, was she staring too? Darn.

It was only one minute now, and Turbeau was nearby. 6 feet apart, or 2 metres in Canadian. Her heart flew all over the place. How did that song go again? The French one, about a _Canadienne?_ She would love to be _his_ honourary _Canadienne._

Next thing she knew, he’s right in front of her. Justin Turbeau, in the flesh, extending his hand towards her. Jill’s jaw hurt from smiling so brightly. She took Turbeau’s hand and wanted so bad to linger. As they went up to the studio set, her leg began to bounce. She had to quell it before the lights went on. She had to breathe. It was so hard to do that.

This last-minute preparation seemed like a last-minute predicament. Turbeau was fixing up that brown leaf on his head. Now she wondered if _her_ hair was okay. Jill wanted to reach up and check, too. She hesitated before she could even do so. Jill didn’t want to look like she was mocking him.

The moment the lights went up, Turbeau’s grooming hand went down. It was like he was having control of the stage. Wasn’t he a drama teacher before? _He sure knows his stuff_ , Jill thought. Still, did he know more than what he let on? Oh no, was he cocky enough to hear news about him? Was he anything like Donald Thump, but in secret? That would kill the entire mood.

Thankfully, he was polite throughout the whole thing. Patient, even. Jill wanted to slap herself silly for stuttering. _How_ was she still hired, after all those flops on air? She noticed his hand twitch while they exchanged some words. It’s like he wanted to touch his hair again. Then he crossed his legs. What could he be trying to tell her?

“I like your hair,” she blurted out. Then she salvaged it with, “How do you manage to get it so good?”

Now that made him run his hand through his hair again. She took the time to notice how it glistened in the light. He went on and on about hair gel, curlers, asking his...wait what? Could he repeat that? Ah, it’s too late. According to him, style is everything to victory. Was that why Thump became president? Did he just have that something that Americans want? And what could Turbeau do, policy-wise, that makes him so different from Thump? 

Jill wanted to ask him about that. When she was about to, she noticed him staring back. Oh heck, was she quiet the whole time? Normally she was a blabbermouth. Countless times her fellow anchorman had to cut her off. Politely, of course. She never got mad about that. As long as someone heard her, it was fine the way it is. Plus, she would always forget what else she was going to say. Sometimes that frustrated him. She wondered, would Turbeau get frustrated about that too? If so, how did a sweet and kind Canadian like him get mad?

It seemed like he could never do so, with how excitedly she was talking. “You’re so kind, is this a value upheld by all Canadians, or more of an obligation?” she asked. Was there even a law in Canada, to be polite at all costs?

Turbeau then started explaining something about history, of which she had no care. He started laughing and she could tell he wanted to recline in his seat and touch his hair again. Instead of tracing that leafy-looking swoosh, he opted to preen the back of his head. The way his hands swerved around the shell of his ear, the way the hair falls back down to its place. She could only be speechless again. This time it was noticeable. 

Jill blinked hard and grinned right back up. “Sorry,” she said. “I just can’t believe you’d come down here.”

He chuckled. He responded with something she _still_ couldn’t understand. What is it about the Canadian accent? She couldn’t hear anything about an _aboot,_ and the _eh_ ’s are occasional. When asked, he said he only did that stuff in the ring. That is where his true personality would show, she bet. Maybe he had an accent that would slip during those times.

When the time came to wrap the interview up, Jill also had to wrap her head around everything he talked about. Whatever, she’ll see it again in post. When it’s up, she’ll have to make sure she’s in Incognito mode. It would help any poor soul who tries to type anything starting with the letter J on the address bar. That was a lesson she learned the hard way. 

After the exchanging of ‘thank you’s, another handshake and a glance to the camera lens, Jill concluded, “You are watching TKO News. We’ll be back after the break!”

The cameras turned off, and Jill breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to recline on her seat too, but she knew she had to be as professional as possible. Would it be unprofessional if she wanted to see him again, though? Why were _feelings_ unprofessional? Jill never understood why. Perhaps it’s all about the way they’re expressed. To be fair, she knew she could be a little bold sometimes. It shouldn’t hurt for a woman like her to act like so, especially if she was over the calendar. At that age, it felt like she had to be bold. Yet this man is making her feel like a schoolgirl again. And he’s about to leave not only the building but her, too.

Would it be too bold of her to ask him out? She wasn’t sure if he was taken. She didn’t pay attention to any details on his fingers. She felt bad that she didn’t pay much attention to him at all. It’s just his appearance that made him look so honest. Perhaps whatever he said on-air may have been as well. He’s got this charisma. What if she could impress him by bringing up this extra little question?

As the crew took things down, Jill went up to Turbeau, who was at a table this time. He was carefully munching on doughnuts this time. She could tell he did not like them as much as he was hiding that fact. It was so obvious as to why. She heard from passing Canadian tourists asking about a 'Timmy's. Who was Timmy, and what was his secret? What made Timmy so good with doughnuts and coffee?

She had to form a plan fast. Jill decided she would talk about the doughnuts, then talk about Timmy, then ask him out. That’s how dating worked, right? She never really went out with someone. All previous attempts ended horribly. One would never know until they try it. It would also be okay if he declined. Jill didn’t want to force this guy into anything. He’s so nice...

When she followed the first two parts of the plan, she went. “I know you’re busy, but...would you like to get coffee sometime?”

Jill’s mouth tightened up, into a forced smile almost. At the same time, Turbeau opened his mouth to reply with three words. Those three words, which are something she will never forget.

“Sorry, I’m married.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury to box our problems away. If you live in the US, please VOTE in the 2020 Election. This could decide what kind of reality we’ll live in for the next 4 years.
> 
> Fight for the rights of your black and brown neighbours. As it happens, stay safe and stay home.


End file.
